‘Arrest the ringleaders!’
Ten of his men dismounted while the others drew their cutlasses and held them at the ready.
‘Step forward, Feargus O’Connor, Francis Place, Ben Mather, Frank Sykes and Jess Midgeley.’
Not one of them moved, and each stood shocked but defiant in the cold dawn light.
O’Connor drew himself up to his full height. ‘By what right do you arrest us?’ he thundered.
‘By right of a magistrate’s warrant, Mr O’Connor, which specifies you and these other four men.’
‘And on what charge?’
‘Conspiring to disrupt the peace.’
‘This has been no conspiracy. We plan to hold an open meeting in Exchange Square with some of our friends in Nottingham. Is this a conspiracy, Captain?’
‘Sir Henry Fowler, the magistrate, will have something to say about that, and you will find he knows a good deal about it. But I’ll not talk more now. Take these men.’
Those of the troop that had dismounted divided into pairs and, apparently recognising each of the leaders, grabbed them roughly from behind.
‘You’ll be walked to the courthouse in the Shire Hall, and you can plead your case there,’ said the Captain.
‘I’ll plead my case to no one but the people and Parliament,’ said O’Connor. Raising his voice, he shouted:
‘Lads, they want to carry us off to gaol. Defend the gate, for they’ll not get us through it with a hundred of you there.’
The full shock of the presence of the cavalry, the striking-down of Jethro and the apparent arrest of the leaders only now dawned on the mass of the marchers. A great murmur of protest went up from all corners of the field; some moved to the gate as O’Connor had instructed, others moved towards the threatened leaders and the cavalry.
Ruth and Joshua were still close to the gate with Jethro. They had been frightened by the spectacle of so many soldiers on horseback and the striking-down of Jethro, but relieved that the soldiers had let him stand up and had then ignored him. Their fears were heightened as they watched the column move towards the flagpole, for they both realised that their father was there with O’Connor.
‘Joshua,’ cried Ruth, ‘Dad’s over yonder where soldiers is going. We’d best go to ’im.’
‘Nay, lass. Tha’d best stay ’ere,’ said Jethro. ‘There’s going to be enough trouble over yon, and tha’ dad wouldnot wish tha’ to be in it.
‘Well, looks like trouble’s coming ’ere,’ said Joshua, as a good third of the marchers followed O’Connor’s call and converged on the gate. At the same time, the cavalry surrounded their captives and began to walk in the same direction.
Seeing the numbers approaching the gate, and the danger that his column would be cut off, the captain ordered his men to draw their cutlasses. But the column could move no faster than the speed of its captives, who were walking as slowly as their guards would allow, and they now held their cutlasses at their prisoners’ backs.
Reaching the gate before the cavalry, a group of the marchers quickly formed a line across it. Ruth and Joshua were held back from joining it by Jethro’s strong arms which now encircled them, and stood a few yards away from the path which the troops would take.
‘Nay, tha’ll stay wi’ me,’ he said. ‘There’s going to be trouble in that line.’
The captain was enraged to see the line blocking his troops’ path. His orders were to deliver the ringleaders to the magistrates at Shire Hall within the hour, and he intended to carry them out. He did not give his men the order to slow down or come to a halt as they came up against the line of marchers. Ruth and Joshua watched in horror as the first three enormous cavalry horses trampled down the thin line of marchers strung across the gate. As their comrades went to pull them from under the horses’ bellies, the next line of horses trampled them too, until there were a good twenty marchers caught up between the legs of the horses. By this time, more than a hundred marchers surrounded the troop, some of whom began to pull at the boots of the horsemen, only to find themselves pushed back at the point of a cutlass.
Jethro could see that his fears were being confirmed and pulled the children further away from what was fast becoming a violent mauling. Ruth was shouting to her father:
‘Dad, are thee alreet? Where’ll they tak tha’?’
Catching the sound of the only girl’s voice in the tumult, Jess turned in her direction and saw his two children now struggling to be free of Jethro and come over to him.
‘Lass, tha’d best stay out of this,’ he called. ‘We’ll be alreet. There’s still a law of some sorts ’ere. Stay wi’ Jethro and Marion.’
He said no more as one of his guards jabbed him with his cutlass, saying in a gruff voice:
‘Shut tha’ mouth. Another word and this goes deeper.’
The marchers, on foot and unarmed, were no match for the mounted troop. Within a few minutes, the line across the gate had broken, and the cavalrymen were walking their horses through it with their prisoners still closely guarded. The marchers who had been trampled, and those who had been struck while attempting to rescue them, lay on the ground watching the troops’ departure.
Ruth and Joshua looked at each other and at Jethro with forlorn faces. Their new friends made on the march were good to them, but without their father they would feel lost. Ruth felt that at the least she needed to see Marion and looked about the field to find her. Her eyes soon caught the top-hatted figure of William Steele, the journalist, who the children had last seen at the big meeting in Manchester. He noticed the children too and, skirting the wounded marchers, walked over to them.
‘Hello, Ruth and Joshua. This is a terrible business. You’ve walked a long way to see this.’
‘Aye, and they’ve takken our dad, now,’ said Joshua, with tears in his eyes.
‘Oh, your father was amongst those arrested?’
‘Yes, there ’e is being dragged away,’ said Ruth, pointing to the backs of the departing soldiers. ‘He’s one of ’em in second row.’
‘What do you think, sir?’ said Jethro. ‘Will they send ’em to gaol?’
‘That will be what they want to do,’ said Steele. ‘And Nottingham magistrates have a habit of getting what they want, and getting it quickly. But my newspaper will have plenty to say about this, and we might even get them out again.’
‘But when?’ said Ruth. ‘An’ will they be alreet when they come out? Won’t they get sick in a damp dungeon? Will they chain ’em to t’wall?’
‘Well,’ said Steele, ‘they won’t feed them on roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, but they’ll not starve, and I shouldn’t worry too much about the chains.’
‘Without them leaders, this march’ll get nowhere,’ said Jethro.
‘I’m sure you’re right there,’ said Steele. ‘And that’s why I’m going to do everything I can to get them out. But where will you children go now? If the magistrates realise your father’s got children here, they might even send a warrant for your arrest!’
Numbed by this thought, the children moved closer to Jethro and, as they did so, saw that Marion and Jim Knotts were running up to them.
‘This is right bad,’ said Marion, out of breath. ‘Arresting your dad and t’rest – it’s disgusting. As for that captain, I’d like to shoot ’im myself.’
‘That’s pluck for you,’ said Steele, ‘and I’m sure you’re a good shot. But what about these two? They need to get out of the way for a few days.’
‘Well, they’ve got no one except us ’ere,’ said Marion.
‘But we made a friend yesterday, Marion,’ said Ruth. ‘She wanted us to go and see ’er and ’er dad int’ town.’
‘An’ who were she?’ said Marion.
‘She called hersel Ellie,’ said Joshua. ‘An’ she lives in a cave.’
‘In a cave!’ said Marion. ‘Wi’ rats and sp
iders?!’
‘No,’ said Ruth. ‘Wi’ barrels o’ beer, for that’s what she an’ her dad brew.’
Steele could see that Marion looked doubtful, but he was sure the children needed to lie low.
‘Marion, the children could be in danger of arrest themselves. If there’s someone in Nottingham that’ll give them shelter, they should take it. Especially if it’s in a place where the magistrates would never think of looking. Ruth and Joshua, do you know where this cave is?’
‘Ellie said it were right under castle. Some’ow in t’illside.’
‘Well, Marion and…’ Steele looked at Jim, unsure of his name.
‘Jim Knotts.’
‘And Jim. Can I suggest you go with these two and try and find the cave and Ellie? Once you find her, leave the children if you can. You can see them daily to make sure they know what’s happening. I’ll keep you posted on my campaign.’
Jethro gave the final word of encouragement.
‘Aye, ’e’s right enough, Marion. Tha’d best tak ’em into t’town an’ find this lass.’
‘Well then, Ruth and Joshua, let’s ’ave a good look for your friend. But I’ll be watching out for them rats and spiders.’
‘Bye, Jethro,’ said Joshua, looking up to the old soldier who he was always sorry to leave.
‘Bye, children,’ said Jethro. ‘Tha’ll still find me on guard duty, like as not, when tha’ gets back.’
Marion and Jim and the children waved a goodbye and set out to find the caves and Ellie. William Steele began writing busily in his notebook.
***
They could see the ruined castle clearly as they left the field, and it served as their beacon. The walk away from the field took them first through the outskirts of the town where old farm cottages existed side by side with new. As they crossed the canal, they entered a maze of narrow streets of older houses where children, cats and dogs, and men with bales on their shoulders jostled for position. Everywhere they heard words and phrases that were close to their own but which were somehow spoken differently. Peeping inside one of the houses with an open door, Joshua could see a woman and a man at work on machines, producing finer and fancier material than any he had ever seen.
Eventually, they found themselves close to a sheer rock face with an inn nestling at its feet. Looking up, they saw the old battlements of the castle rising above the rock.
‘It must be close to ’ere,’ said Ruth. ‘For Ellie said caves were in t’rock under t’castle.’
‘Well, yon inn looks right enough for me,’ said Jim. ‘I’d swap it for a cave any time. The Journey to Jerusalem, eh, not a bad name.’
‘Come on, Jim, we’re not worried about your entertainment now,’ said Marion. ‘Let’s get over there and ask for t’brewers. They should know their whereabouts right enough.’
The inn was built out from the rock face and seemed to be almost a part of it.
‘It’s almost falling down,’ said Joshua.
‘Aye, lad; not long to go,’ said Jim.
‘But it looks so old. It must ’ave been there for centuries,’ said Ruth.
‘An’ what’s stood that long might last a few more,’ said Marion.
A group of half a dozen horses were tied up outside the inn, and two young teenage boys were brushing them down.
‘Jim, go and ask them way t’caves,’ she said. ‘We don’t all want to be seen asking t’way when we’re trying to ’elp these two lie low.’
Jim went over to the boys, who pointed further down the massive rock; and Marion and the children followed the direction on the other side of the road. They met Jim at a point just outside sight of the inn and round the corner of the rock face. Standing fifty yards back from the cliff, they could see several openings in the rock over a space of about a hundred yards. A roughly dressed boy, carrying a small keg on his shoulder, came out of one of them.
‘Looks like we’re on the right lines,’ said Jim.
‘Let’s go and ask ’im if ’e knows Ellie.’
Marion spoke to him as their paths crossed.‘’Ullo, young lad. Dos’t a know a young lass by t’name of Ellie?’ said Marion.
‘Ellie Tinker? Aye, I know ’er right well. She’s right enough but me dad says ’e’s not so sure about ’er brewing. Tha’ll find ’er in that cave yon,’ and he pointed to a cleft in the rock about fifty yards away.
Reaching it, they found themselves facing a canvas flap on which was written: TINKERS’ ALES: THE CASTLE’S BEST. Jim pushed the flap aside and led the way in. It was difficult to see anything of the immediate area behind the canvas, but a glow of light came from round a corner a few yards away.
‘Who’s there?’ cried a young voice, which Ruth and Joshua recognised.
‘It’s us. Ruth and Joshua,’ said Ruth. ‘Where are you?’
Ellie appeared round the corner of the rock chamber. Outlined by the glow of the lamp behind her, with her fair hair tumbling down her shoulders, she looked like a strange spirit rather than flesh and blood.
‘Well, if it’s not the ’eroes of the march. Come to see Ellie in ’er den, ’ave you?’
‘Ellie,’ said Ruth, can you ’elp us. Me dad an’ t’other leaders have been arrested an’ carried off by t’cavalry. They’ll put ’em in jail, like as not, an’ they may drag us there too.’
‘We’ve got to ’ide for a few days,’ added Joshua. ‘In case they come back for us.’
Ellie looked from them to Marion and Jim.
‘An’ are tha’ friends wanting to ‘ide too?’ she asked, looking doubtfully at the adults.
‘No, lass,’ said Marion. ‘We just came to ’elp ’em find thee. We’ll be wi’t rest of marchers now.’
Ellie looked relieved. ‘Well then, welcome to Tinkers’ cave then. Come an’ ’ave a look.’
Saying this, she took Ruth by the hand and led the party round the corner from where the light was glowing. They moved into a spacious cavern about twelve feet high and twenty feet across, with three wooden barrels each about four feet high and what looked like a caldron against the back wall. There were several stacks of smaller kegs piled up against the walls. The cavern was dimly lit by ten candles set at different points. Short steps were pushed against the barrels, and a ladle lay on the top rung. Sacks, some full and some half empty, lay against the wall of the cave. There was a sound of running water coming from beyond the chamber.
‘This is it,’ Ellie said proudly. ‘This is where we make th’ale. Me dad’s out now; he tries to give me orders every day, though truth to tell, ’e’s usually out. So it’s me what spends day firing up charcoal for t’caldron to get malt from barley, boiling it with ’ops, adding in t’yeast and running wi’ pails of water from t’spring to t’barrels. So I could do wi’ a bit of ’elp. That way, tha’ can pay for tha’ lodging,’ she said, smiling. ‘An’ lodging’ll be round ’ere.’
Ellie picked a candle from a ledge on the cave wall and beckoned them to follow her. She went round a corner into a deeper recess of the cave, where there were two straw pallets lying on the floor.
‘We’ll get another o’ these easily enough,’ she said.
The children were delighted to have the security of such a well-hidden retreat. Marion sensed that it would be cold and damp, but could see that they were not likely to find a better hiding place.
‘Well, tha’ll be alreet ’ere,’ she said. ‘Ellie, will your dad be ’appy wi’ this? Can we talk to ’im?’
‘I’d not know where ’e is, me duck.’ said Ellie. ‘I ’aven’t seen ‘im since ’e dragged me away from your campfire last night. But, don’t worry, ’e’ll be right enough. ’E’s no friend o’ magistrates,’ she smiled.
Marion looked at Ruth and Joshua with a question in her eyes. Would they be happy to take Ellie’s word for it? Ruth understood the question and nodded her head to Marion.
&n
bsp; ‘Well, Jim an’ I will leave thee now. But we’ll be back tomorrow in t’morning wi’ whatever news of your dad and t’others we’ve got.’
‘Won’t tha’ ’ave a glass of Tinkers’ best afore tha’ goes?’ asked Ellie.
‘I’ll not say no to that,’ said Jim.
‘Nor me,’ said Marion.
Ellie reached deep into one of the barrels with her ladle and filled two glass mugs to the brim, passing them with foam running over the top to Marion and Jim.
‘This is a fine Nottingham breakfast, lass,’ said Jim.
‘Aye, ’n’ if me dad were ’ere, it’d cost you a penny,’ said Ellie. ‘But I’ll let you off.’
‘Best drink up then, Jim,’ said Marion, ‘or thou’ll be in t’gaol too, for I know tha’ ’asn’t a farthing, never mind a penny.’
They downed their glasses, and Marion hugged both the children before leaving.
‘Look after yourselves. We’ll be ’ere tomorrow, about this time.’
***
Ellie kept Ruth and Joshua busy all that day. Not only did they have to draw beer out of the barrels into smaller kegs, but also to keep ladling the barley and malt into the caldron and occasionally shovelling charcoal beneath it. Ellie moved to and fro, giving a series of orders. At about midday, she had decided they needed additional supplies of charcoal and suggested she leave them for a short time as she begged and borrowed from neighbours. Ruth and Joshua had looked nervous and eventually they had all agreed they should move together.
Ellie took them on a quick tour of the brewers of Castle Hill, with all of whom she seemed to be on the best of terms. Ruth and Joshua could see that exchanging and borrowing supplies, with no money passing hands, was the normal practice in this community.
They found children working in most of the caves, many of whom looked tired and dispirited, but who managed a smile for Ellie, whose home was apparently a meeting place most evenings.
‘See tha’ to-neet, then,’ said Ellie to a girl in the last brewing shop they visited. ‘’Ave got these ’ere visitors that’ll fair fleece tha’ at dominoes.’
Northern Stars Page 11